Daedalus Core
by lastlivingfox
Summary: In the wake of Meteorfall, Cloud and his allies withdraw from the public eye in order to avoid capture by the law. But sinister forces are marshaling to shatter the fragile peace now governing the planet. In the midst of the unfolding chaos Novus, a mysterious new corporate entity, unleashes a dangerous and unstable special unit tasked with a single objective: eliminate Avalanche.
1. From the Ashes

_"Nothing, except a battle lost, _  
_can be half so melancholy as a battle won."_  
—Arthur Wellesley

_"Old sins cast long shadows."_  
—Traditional

**Final Fantasy VII**  
**Daedalus Core**

**Part 1**  
**'From the Ashes'**

* * *

**Outskirts of Midgar / January 21 / 1:07 am**  
**Meteorfall**

Another blast wave struck the Highwind's bow, sending the airship reeling, leaving its fuselage shuddering and threatening to tear apart from the sheer strain, while its crew members clung to whatever surface was closest at hand to keep from stumbling and falling. In the distance, the unthinking monstrosity that was Meteor pressed ever downwards, slowly tearing through the planet's atmosphere as it descended towards Midgar. The Highwind, recovering its balance, slowly circled the chaotic scene, staying just outside the city's perimeter to avoid being caught up in the unnatural storms raging throughout the vast metropolis. Inside, Avalanche and the ship's crew members watched the spectacle unfold in disbelief, powerless to intervene as the preternatural celestial object hovered over the city, ever closer to destabilizing the very planet as it came crashing down. They looked on, seized by a quiet despair, knowing that all of their efforts had been for nothing as the accursed thing continued to wreak havoc unchecked; that they were witnessing the end of their world. The halo of light, too, had failed. The counter-spell known as 'Holy' had been released from its constraints as they had hoped, but it was too late, too weak to halt Meteor's blind onslaught. Within the next few moments, it would render their planet uninhabitable, or destroy it outright.

A mad, dead, would-be-god's legacy of ruin.

Then, they witnessed something truly miraculous as the Lifestream itself began to swell up from the earth, pale azure tendrils snaking from the ground, converging on the malignant asteroid, enveloping it and the residual energy from the contravening magic, amplifying its light, drowning out everything in its surroundings, making it impossible to see as the two gargantuan forces of nature strove against one another. The overwhelming cacophony and blinding arcs of light overloaded their senses as the conflict between the two forces reached its crescendo. Just as the light began to blind them, another powerful shock wave came bursting through the air, sending the Highwind careening once again, knocking them to their feet.

The light slowly faded from the sky, leaving only a vast, empty space where the baleful object had towered over the city of Midgar. Everyone aboard the Highwind slowly raised themselves back to their feet, their minds still acclimating to the sudden, shocking stillness in the air. For a moment, they simply stared at the empty sky, dumbfounded, still too shaken to say anything. Meteor was gone, and not even the echoes of the pandemonium that had filled the sky mere seconds earlier remained.

Tifa was the first to speak up, breaking the eerie silence. "It's gone," she said with a nervous half-laugh of relief. "It's over."

Her words elicited an immediate rejoicing from all. Her comrades-in-arms shook hands, hugged, patted each other on the back. A few even leapt in the air, fists pumping, or took to some semblance of a victory dance. Their long struggle had come to an end. Sephiroth had been defeated. Shinra was no more, and Meteor was gone. They could afford to let their guard down at last.

"...It's not over," Cloud said.

Though he spoke quietly, his abrupt contradiction caused the others to cease their celebrations. They observed the grave look on his face, so perfectly out of joint with their elated mood, and wondered what was troubling his mind. He did not look up at them, however, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"He's right," Vincent said. "Look, down there."

The others moved closer to the observation windows to see what the two of them were looking at. And then it dawned on them. The city below, they realized in horror, was falling apart. Only now that Meteor had vanished could they see the full extent of the devastation wrought by the unnatural phenomenon. Lingering storms still ravaged the city, the pillars supporting the upper plates slowly gliding apart, unable to resist the strain, whisper-close to collapsing altogether. Everywhere, structural damage and raging fires conspired to turn the overwhelmed metropolis into a death trap.

Down below, first responders would be scrambling to conduct rescue operations, but untold civilians, they knew, had likely already perished in the chaos. Thousands more would join them unless they intervened, and quickly. To make matters worse, Midgar's artificial perimeter was failing. As a result, monsters from the outskirts of the city, no longer held at bay by its protective walls, had begun swarming into the slums, terrorizing the defenseless population.

"The whole damn city's overrun," Barret said.

"We have to get down there," Yuffie urged.

"Cid, take us down," Cloud said, turning to the Highwind's captain.

"Yeah, good call," Cid replied, gesturing for the crew to make preparations for landing. "Gotta put this thing on the ground, anyway. She's taken a hell of a beating."

Cloud and the others wasted no time assembling in the airship's loading bay, gathering their weapons and equipment as the ship rapidly descended. Bright artificial light from the city flooded the cold compartment as the loading ramp slowly opened. The Highwind nearly slammed into the ground, its crew making no attempt at a subtle landing, causing the whole airship to shudder violently as it touched down just outside the city limits, forcing several of them to catch hold of something for balance, waiting until the reverberations had ceased.

The disparate members of Avalanche each looked to one another, exchanging quick glances with their allies, as they regarded the nightmare that awaited them below. Outside, the megastructure that was Midgar continued to fall apart, with buildings collapsing, fires burning, and civilians fleeing for their lives, while eerie monstrosities preyed on anything that moved.

"All right," Cloud said, "Let's go."

"Godspeed, everyone," Vincent added, before they charged, arms drawn, down the Highwind's loading ramp, descending into the maelstrom.

* * *

**Shinra Headquarters / January 24 / 3:19 am**  
**Three nights after Meteorfall**

Two black helicopters honed in on the shattered ruins of the Shinra headquarters' tower, approaching the abandoned monolith under a fulminating sky, hard rain and wind battering their windshields as they drew nearer their target.

"Groundside entry is a no-go," the first helicopter's pilot said. "LZ's too unstable. Recommend you take the rooftop instead."

"We'll infiltrate via the elevator tunnels," Archer, the team's leader, responded via the second helicopter's radio. "Watch our six."

"Copy that," the first helicopter's pilot responded. "Will maintain a patrol pattern. Good luck down there."

The second helicopter came to a stop above the tower, and three figures quickly descended from it, rappelling down to the ceiling, while the other helicopter circled the perimeter. The three soldiers wasted no time forcing open one of the elevator entrances leading inside the main building, breaking the damaged, inoperable doors down with a battering ram after a futile attempt to activate the locking mechanism with key cards. They moved further down, abseiling through the empty tunnels leading from the top floor down to just below their intended destination.

They swept like shadows through the derelict building, the flashlights on their rifles piercing the dark as they stalked onward, keeping a lookout for hidden threats as they proceeded to their target. As they did, the twisted metal floor underneath their feet groaned with nearly every step they took, ready to break apart at the slightest application of pressure. Everywhere, the inside of the Shinra tower showed signs of extreme structural damage, with walls and floor alike shredded and torn, and in some places missing entirely. Malfunctioning computer equipment occasionally flickered into life somewhere in the gloom, before slowly dying out again.

The building was devoid of all life, or so it appeared. A low, ghostly howl came emanating from the cracks in the walls through which the howling wind found ingress, causing the tattered banners bearing the Shinra corporation's insignia to billow and fluctuate, while the torrential rain slipped inside from every rent and crack, wetting the edges of the floor. Sparks flew from loose electrical cables hanging from the ceiling, while thin wisps of smoke poured in from below.

"Man, this place is falling apart," Watts, one of the soldiers, remarked.

"No shit," Riley, the second one, replied. "It's a damn miracle it hasn't collapsed on our heads already."

"Where's that smoke coming from?" Watts asked.

"Chemical fires must still be burning down below," Riley said.

"Great," Watts replied. "What the hell happened here, anyway?"

"Place got scored by that giant mech, is what I heard."

"For real?"

"Yeah," Riley said. "Tore through this place like a goddamn jackhammer. Apparently a couple of glancing hits were enough to wreck the whole building. If it'd been head on, HQ would be a smoking crater right now."

"Stay focused," Archer reprimanded them, taking the lead.

"Captain Archer. Status report?" a voice came over the radio, its tone level and authoritative.

"The structural integrity of this place has been severely compromised," Archer replied. "I'd rather we not stay here any longer than necessary."

"Any problems with the civilian population?" the voice on the other end of the line inquired.

"Civvies don't know a thing," Archer replied. "As far as they're concerned, our presence here is just part of the rescue operations."

"Good. Proximity to objective?" the other voice pursued.

"Approaching the President's office now," Archer said.

"What's left of it, anyway," Watts added under his breath. Archer shot him a look, but said nothing.

They moved swiftly up the semi-circular stairs leading to the President's office, finding it as lifeless as the rest of the building. Archer set his rifle on the desk and removed his gas mask, while his subordinates swept the surrounding area.

"Looks clear, sir," Riley reported.

"All right. Let's wrap this up quick," Archer said. "Riley, get on the mainframe."

Riley walked over behind the desk, removing a laptop and a set of cables from his backpack, plugging them into the President's terminal. The terminal blinked into life, being one of the few pieces of electrical equipment still kept running by what little remained of the building's emergency power. The soldier quickly tapped in a few commands with his keyboard, assessing the status of the building's network.

"Looks like someone's been trying to access the mainframe from outside."

"We got anything to worry about?" Archer asked.

"No, sir," Riley replied. "Fail-safes are all in place. They might have scratched the surface, but nothing critical has been compromised. Hidden database integrity is intact."

"Good," Archer said. "Grab the data we need, then wipe everything."

"On it, sir," Riley said.

"Sir, got a body over here," Watts called, waving the captain over.

Archer walked over to the second soldier, who was kneeling down over a charred body located in the corner of the room, wearing what would have been a white suit and coat, now scorched to grey and black.

"It's him," Watts said. "It's gotta be."

"Turn him around," Archer said.

The soldier complied, rolling the body over into a supine position. He and Archer both resisted the urge to recoil at the sight of the dead man's face, all crackled and burnt, disfigured beyond all recognition.

"Confirm," the voice on the radio said.

Watts shook his head. "This guy's been burnt to a crisp. No way to ID the body from a visual."

"Riley, bring the kit," Archer said.

"Sir," the first soldier replied, leaving his position at the mainframe, pausing to retrieve a small electronic device from his backpack before joining them. He set the device down next to the body, then drew a pair of thin cables fitted with small needles from its side, pushing them underneath the skin on the body's right arm. As he did, the device's monitor flashed into life:

_"Beginning genetic matching."_

A burst of information raced across the monochrome black-and-green monitor, too fast for any human eye to read, as the device ran through its calculations, before halting abruptly on its final output:

_"100% match,"_ the message read, blinking and fading in slow rhythm for a few seconds, before the device switched itself off again.

"It's him," Riley said, removing the device.

"Captain Archer, _confirm_," the voice on the radio insisted.

"...Rufus Shinra is dead, sir," Archer announced.

There was a brief silence on the other end. Finally, the reply came. "The chain of command is clear," the voice said. "As the last remaining member of the board, I am hereby assuming control of Shinra. All its assets, including its military, now fall under my control. How copy, Captain?"

"Solid copy, sir," Archer replied. "Orders?"

Another pause, longer this time, as whoever was on the other end of the line carefully weighed their next decision.

"Activate Daedalus Protocol."

"Understood, sir," Archer said, looking to his fellow soldiers. He could see from the way they subtly tensed up that the severity of this directive was not lost upon them. "Permission to deploy Deepground?"

"...Granted."

"Thank you, Mr. Blackwood," Archer said. He picked his rifle up from the desk and cocked it, grinning, before gesturing for his subordinates to pack up their gear. Bright light flooded the demolished office as one of the helicopters outside descended, hovering just above the balcony, ready for extraction.

"All right, boys," he said. "Looks like we're off the leash. It's time to raise some hell."

* * *

**Eagle's Nest, South Midgar / February 28 / 8:56 am**  
**38 days after Meteorfall**

Barret heaved himself on upwards through the grimy, uneven stairwell of the apartment complex, finally reaching the uppermost floor after what felt like an eternity of scaling creaky, cheaply made steps. He approached the last door on the left side of the corridor, banging loudly on the door of apartment #803.

"Who is it?" a familiar voice came from inside.

"It's me," Barret said. "Open up."

He could hear a lock sliding open before the door opened just a crack, a second chain lock going taut as it did. Cloud Strife, looking strangely dishevelled and worn-out, regarded his unexpected visitor warily from the other side of the door. He struck Barret as tired, haggard, and quite possibly not all there.

Barret did not bother with putting a fine point on it. "Damn, boy. You look like you've been run over by a train."

Cloud rolled his eyes. "Good to see you too, Barret."

He shut the door again momentarily, undoing the other lock before swinging the door open again, letting his visitor inside. It was strange, Barret thought, seeing his old comrade-in-arms in civilian attire, a simple set of t-shirt and jeans. Still, he supposed, it was perhaps not so surprising that he had ditched his stolen SOLDIER uniform, given its history and connotations. He certainly couldn't blame his friend for wanting to cut ties with the past.

He looked over the small, shabby apartment, which looked as though it had gone unattended for weeks. The blinds before the windows appeared to be permanently drawn, dirty plates lay piled up in the sink, and everything save for the living room floor seemed to be gathering dust. He spotted some exercise equipment in one corner, just starting to show signs of falling into disuse. Bottles of beer and hard liquor were strewn all over the place, including the floor. A small, battered TV tuned to a local news channel sat on the table opposite the couch, the anchor droning on endlessly as she moved from one news item to another.

_"...the large-scale dismantling of Mako reactors continues world-wide, following the ratification of the 'Gaia Protection Act', effectively outlawing the use of Mako energy. Midgar's interim government is expected to finalize..."_

"So, this is where you've been holed up this whole time, huh?" Barret asked.

"More or less," Cloud replied, drifting off into the kitchen corner.

"No offense, but... you're lookin' kinda wiry, Spikes," Barret said. "The hell happened to you?"

"Just taking some time off," Cloud replied, digging through the refrigerator.

Barret scoffed. "From what? Basic hygiene?"

If Cloud had heard his remark, he made little indication of it. He rose up again slowly, with two bottles of beer in hand. "Want one?"

Barret looked at him sideways. "It's like nine in the morning."

Cloud glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. "Hmmh. Looks like I'm starting late today."

Barret shook his head. He couldn't decide if Cloud was trying to be funny, or simply dismissing his concern with glib remarks.

"Last chance," Cloud said, offering once more.

"I'll pass, thanks," Barret replied, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

"Suit yourself." Cloud shrugged, then walked past him, using one bottle to crack the other one open before taking a swig. He sat down on the couch, continuing to drink and watch the news roll by, acting as though he didn't have company. Barret exhaled loudly and shook his head again. The war with Shinra had been one thing, but it was clear that peace-time was really doing a number on his friend. Whatever it was that had kept him going throughout the last days of Meteorfall had begun to fade, leaving him dulled by inaction and a lack of purpose. Unlike the sharp, intense leader of Avalanche that he had been mere weeks before, he now simply looked burnt out and indifferent.

_"...Reports of another random attack on a small settlement outside of Edge, with the greater part of the village burned down to the ground. Civilian casualties are estimated to be in the hundreds. As of yet, no group has claimed responsibility for the attack, but authorities suspect that the Wutaian terrorist organization known as 'Tempest' may be responsible for committing this atrocity. Local police are on high alert, and there are talks underway about calling in the Continental Guard to prevent further attacks from extremist groups such as..."_

"You seeing this?" Barret asked. "The fuck is wrong with people?"

Cloud shrugged again. "Hell if I know."

Neither of them said anything for a moment, as they watched the grainy footage of the destroyed village roll on. What must have been an ordinary, peaceful village at the edge of the countryside had been reduced to cinders, with scarcely a single building left standing, or any survivors to pick up the pieces. For what purpose, if any, neither of them could say. "That's the problem, isn't it?" he added quietly. "You can save the planet, Barret, but you can't fix humanity."

_"..."Seismic activity is still on the rise in the greater Midgar area, with tremors expected to increase in volume and intensity throughout the next weeks. Thus far, no scientific consensus has been reached as to what might be causing this recent development, with theories ranging from volcanic activity to accidental terraformation due to the sudden removal of active Mako reactors in this region..."_

"...So, what's with the courtesy call?" Cloud asked, after a moment of silence.

"Jes' came to check up on you is all," Barret said. "You pretty much dropped off the grid after... well, after everything."

He looked over at Cloud. No reaction.

"Teef's been callin'. She's worried about you."

Cloud gave a small nod at this, staring vacantly at the wall in front of him, avoiding eye contact. He seemed reluctant to ask about her, for some reason. Barret knew that, as much as they cherished one another, their relationship could be strained at times, and that they'd had little to no contact after Avalanche disbanded. And so he had decided to check up on his friend before letting Tifa know of his whereabouts. Given Cloud's current state, it struck him as the wiser choice.

"How is she?" Cloud finally asked.

"She's doing all right," Barret said. "Still piecing together that new place downtown. Seems like bad karma, if you ask me, naming it '7th Heaven' all over again."

_"...The new government has declared the north-west section of Midgar off-limits to all civilian traffic until further notice, citing extreme infrastructure damage..."_

"How'd you find me, anyway?" Cloud asked.

"Asked around," Barret replied. "Reeve's been keepin' tabs on everyone."

"That so?" Cloud said. "You should tell him to stop spying on people. His Shinra days are over." He paused, adding, "you would think."

At least he was no less caustic and dismissive than usual, Barret thought. That was something. Most of that vim, however, seemed to be festering in this hell hole, slowly turning inward. "Man, you really need to get outta this place," he said. "This shit ain't good for you."

"Sure," Cloud replied. "Let me just clear my schedule."

Barret's hands tightened into fists. He was about one smart-ass remark away from losing his patience. He held his tongue for the moment, however, and instead wandered about the untidy apartment. He noticed something, a small table lined with old photographs of Avalanche, which were kept in pristine condition, in stark contrast with their surroundings. One stood out to Barret in particular, a group photo taken at the Gold Saucer just before their visit to the Temple of the Ancients. He picked up the photo and examined it in detail.

In it, the group was gathered in the amusement park's brightly-lit central hub, thronged together as they all did their best to fit into the camera's narrow frame. Tifa and Aerith held up Cait Sith between the two of them, playfully cuddling the animatronic cat despite its protests. Cid, meanwhile, could be seen at the edge of the frame, sneaking a sip from his flask while sneering at the scene, while Vincent stood to one side, looking off into the distance. Barret recalled how moments earlier Yuffie had been horsing around, trying to elicit a ride from a taciturn Nanaki, before falling over, nearly knocking the girls in front of her down to the floor, evoking surprised laughter from the others. Even Cloud seemed amused by the young girl's antics, a smile threatening to appear on his face as she accidentally photo-bombed Tifa and Aerith, a huge grin plastered on her face. The photo had not been taken so long ago, and yet it struck him as a remnant of a more innocent time. A fragment of better days, frozen in time.

He looked up at the TV again. The news ticker read: "The End of Shinra?"

_"...The body of Rufus Shinra will be laid to rest this afternoon at Crescent Hill Park outside of Kalm. Few are expected to attend the service. With no known surviving family members, his death marks the end of the Shinra bloodline, as well as the dissolution of the once-great corporate empire..."_

He noted the blank look on Cloud's face. Their victory must have seemed a sad joke to him, given how much they'd sacrificed to achieve it. The promise he had made, then broken, back when they were still nine, not eight. He heaved a deep sigh, briefly pondering the other losses Avalanche had suffered throughout the years, before reforming in Midgar, then set the photograph back on the table. "Look, man, I sympathize. I do. But you can't shut the world out forever."

Cloud took another swig from his bottle and continued to stare out into nothingness. "Watch me."

"I'm serious, boy," Barret said. "You need to drop this 'world-weary' horseshit and get your head back in the game."

For the first time, Cloud responded to his friend's incessant prodding with something resembling real emotion. Unfortunately, that emotion happened to be anger. He put the bottle down and rose to his feet, glowering at him, clearly growing impatient with his constant provocations. "What do you want from me, Barret?" he asked wearily. "The rescue operations are over. There's nothing more for me to do."

"There's _always_ somethin'," Barret said. "The world ain't gonna rebuild itself, y'know."

"Then go talk to someone who knows how to build things," Cloud said, slowly shaking his head. "I'm done."

Barret gave him a disdainful scowl, looking over the grimy apartment one last time. "Yeah, no shit."

He turned and headed for the door, disgusted with his friend's strange and uncharacteristic passivity, then stopped in the doorway, pausing for a moment to dig something out of his pocket. "Believe it or not, there's still people out there that care about your spiky ass," he said, thrusting a small, folded piece of paper into Cloud's hands, glaring at him all the while. "Call."

He turned away again, slamming the door as he left.

Cloud examined the slip of paper in his hands. A number was written on the inside in small, neat handwriting. Tifa's new number, he assumed. They'd all discarded their old phones not long after the rescue operations in Midgar concluded, on the assumption that the authorities would want to have a few words with them. They were still fugitives from the law, after all, thanks to Shinra's propaganda, never having had a chance to tell their side of the story.

_"...Adrian Blackwood, the newly-minted CEO of Novus Vita Medical Research Incorporated, is expected to give a public address, followed by an exclusive interview on our network regarding the company's controversial decision to deploy what they are calling a 'peacekeeping force', in addition to outlining their expansion into various new enterprises ranging from..."_

He walked back over to the couch and sat down, holding the piece of paper in his hands, staring at it for a long while. Calling her would be the sensible thing to do. The rational thing. He looked up, glancing at his phone, lying on the table at the far side of the room. His eyes wandered to the set of photos next to it, and he felt old regrets welling up as he looked at them. No, he thought, the last thing she needed was to see him like this. He crumpled up the piece of paper and threw behind his shoulder, down onto the dirty floor below.

_"...In other news, the citizens of Edge plan to unveil a new statue in the city centre, to commemorate the end of the Meteor Crisis, which threatened to..."_

He snatched up the second beer bottle and took a long swig, emptying it in one gulp, before moving on to the half-empty bottle of rye next to it. It tasted like paint thinner, but at least it numbed the pain. He turned turned over on his side, lying down on the couch, facing away from the TV, letting the inebriation roll over him, consciousness fading to static as the unceasing flood of news droned on.

_"...Fortunately, the loss of life was minimized by timely rescue efforts, when..."_

* * *

**[Author's Notes]**

This is something of an experiment. As such, it is bound to be in a perpetual state of "first draft" quality (being that the perfect is, as they say, the enemy of the good). Here, I can only ask the reader's patience as I proceed. There will likely be a large set of author's notes at the outset of the story, updated from time to time, in order to keep such clutter at a minimum from here on. Questions, comments, and constructive criticism are welcome, and I would be indebted to any eagle-eyed readers catching spelling errors, typos, odd or awkward sentence structures, dangling participles, &c. I will do my level best to update and fix the story accordingly.

**[Timeline]**

In order to clear up any potential confusion regarding this story's timeline, I thought I should write a few words regarding the time frame in which it is meant to take place. This is not, technically speaking, an AU. Rather, I am resetting the clock back to just after the original story's ending. In this continuity, 'Advent Children' and 'Dirge of Cerberus' don't take place. Although it is technically compatible with the events of 'Crisis Core', I won't be making any explicit references to it. Should contradictions arise from this (whether in terms of story logic or aesthetics), any and all events taking place in the extended canon will be overruled by the ones from the original story.

**[DC Deepground]**

Although the story will use the term "Deepground" extensively, this is not intended to be the Deepground / Tsviets from 'Dirge of Cerberus'. I am merely borrowing the title. In this case, "Deepground" is intended to be the special unit itself, and will be referred to in future author's notes as "DC Deepground", to avoid ambiguity. All characters involved will be original creations.

**[Additional media]**

I may add other kinds of media to chapters from time to time, including game and film scores to help set the mood. ( tends to remove any external links, however, so these may only be available in the AO3 version.)

A playlist for chapter 1 may be found here:  
playlist?list=PLh0EE1-PgZldxVqvrdtjbzdLsF3bsQxFV

**[Updates]**

Unfortunately, given my busy schedule, I cannot guarantee any regular updates. The next update will most likely surface this summer, and I am hoping to make regular updates at a rate of one new chapter per month thereafter, if able.

Thank you for reading.

**[Addendum]**

A more media-rich version of this story can be found at AO3.


	2. Loomings

"The old is dying and the new cannot be born;  
in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear."  
_—Antonio Gramsci_

**Part 2**  
**'Loomings'**

* * *

**Site Alpha - Shinra military base, east of Junon. Sub-basement command centre / February 28 / 10:24 pm**

_*click*_

"Stop me if you've heard this one before."

_*click* *click*_

Lieutenant Baker grimaced as someone tore the blindfold from his eyes. He slowly blinked, allowing his vision to return, recognizing his surroundings as the underground command centre, where all the base's most sensitive computer equipment was housed. He could see the outline of colonel Hawkins, similarly tied to a chair, silhouetted by the deep blue glow of the giant display situated at the head of the base's mainframe. The bodies of nearly a dozen soldiers were strewn all across the floor, their wounds fresh. Not another living soul besides himself, colonel Hawkins, and their five assailants, were to be seen.

_*click*_

Baker racked his brain, trying to recall what had happened. All he could remember prior to being rendered unconscious was the base's security system going haywire, turning on its own staff, before the power grid shut down entirely. He and colonel Hawkins had been holed up in their sealed-off command post with a handful of soldiers for protection, watching the live security camera feed in horror as the base's staff fought off their unseen foes, emptying whole rifle cartridges into thin air, only to be struck down from behind, or accidentally mowing one another down in panicked bouts of friendly fire. Before long, the last remaining echoes of gunfire died down, and the whole base went silent.

_*click* *click*_

A sudden, booming noise announced that the base's electrical generators had shut down, mere seconds before the lights went dead, to be replaced by the dim, red glow of the ones operating on emergency power. Before long, even the miniscule light offered by those had faded to nearly nothing. Random, violent thumping and other strange noises could be heard emanating from every side, coming from somewhere just outside the room. Baker and Hawkins had stood close together, weapons drawn, eyeing the doors and ceiling, bracing themselves for the inevitable attack along with their fellow soldiers, when someone, a cloaked figure, had slipped inside the heavily-guarded room in the dark, seemingly through the solid walls. Then, blackness.

_*click*_

Baker strained his neck to turn around as far as his restraints would allow in order to get a better look at his captors, four of whom stood behind him arrayed in a half-circle, as motionless as statues. Though his mind was still hazy, he tried to take in as much as he could at a glance, as per his training, in order to assess their equipment and fighting capabilities.

_*click click*_

Three of them were clad in grey boiler suits, wearing masks on their faces, ivory white in sharp contrast with the rest of their pitch-black apparel. The first was armed with a pair of katanas, slung behind her back. Something about her stance belied severe impatience, as though she were waiting for the chance to strike him down at the slightest hint of defiance. The second wore a bandoleer across his brawny frame, and Baker noticed a conspicuous glow in the dark, emanating from underneath his suit's sleeve, stemming from some bulky device attached to his arm. A hacking tool, perhaps. The third carried no discernible weaponry, but Baker could practically sense the raw energy emanating from her, the kind released by heavy use of materia... or Mako. Unlike the other two, she watched him from behind her pale, featureless mask with seeming indifference. The fourth was encased in some kind of powered armour, making it difficult to distinguish between their human and robotic elements. A pure monolith of steel, carrying an oversized, cannon-like firearm which looked far too heavy for any ordinary human to even lift. The lieutenant hung his head again, exhausted, his mind still numb and reeling, struggling to fathom how such a small group had torn its way through an entire military base within mere moments.

_*click*_

The fifth and final member of the group, evidently their leader, slowly paced back and forth in front of him. Unlike the others, the man walked about unmasked, as though wholly unconcerned with being identified. Judging by their current situation, this seemed less a matter of arrogance than simple confidence. The way the man carried himself spoke of a military bearing and experience, Baker noted, as did the light scarring on his weathered face. He appeared to be somewhat older than the rest of his squad, with his cropped, dark hair and trim beard just beginning to show hints of white at the edges. The man wore a grey long-coat, underneath which he seemed to be sporting a civilian variant on military fatigues. His clothing, however, was entirely devoid of any recognizable insignia.

He continued to march back and forth in front of the captive lieutenant, eyeing him with casual interest all the while. Though his motions were quick and easy, they betrayed a raw, animalistic strength, as he shifted about the room with the sinewy grace of a tiger slowly sizing up its prey. He paused, gave a smile, then resumed pacing back and forth, all the while toying with a golden lighter, flicking the head on and off, exposing and extinguishing the flame over and over again as he began to address Baker in a colloquial, almost friendly manner.

_*click*_

"There's an old saying."

_*click* *click*_

"'Build a man a fire, and you keep him warm for a day. Set the man on fire...'"

He paused again, glancing over his shoulder, as though for effect. As if on cue, two of the people behind Baker snatched up a set of gas cans and doused him with kerosene. Baker grimaced as the cold liquid saturated his clothes and began to seep in towards his skin, worsening the discomfort of being held captive in an already freezing-cold basement. He watched as the woman with the twin blades marched over to where colonel Hawkins sat tied to his chair and did the same to him, emptying her can of kerosene right on top of his head, leaving both of them soaked from head to toe in the highly-flammable liquid.

"'...and you keep him warm for the rest of his life'," their leader finished with a look of satisfaction at his team's efficacy. He paused in front of Baker yet again, flicking the lighter open for what seemed like the hundredth time. This time, however, he did not flick the lid shut, but instead held his hand above the wavering flame as he approached the captive soldier.

"He don't look like the talkative type to me, Fix," the brawny man to Baker's right said.

"We'll see about that," Fixer replied, without taking his eyes off their captive.

"What do you want?" Baker managed, his voice hoarse.

"Access," Fixer said, leaning in closer, hovering over the lieutenant, the open flame in his hands mere inches away from the captive soldier's face. "We need the codes for your base's mainframe. If you would be so kind as to grant them to us, we'll be on our way."

The lieutenant balked at this. Giving them access to the mainframe would mean granting them control over the entire base, including its restricted weapons research facilities, which contained some of Shinra's most closely-guarded military technology. He knew that, by his orders and oath alike, he could not allow them to slip into enemy hands, even under the threat of death. "I can't give that to you."

Fixer sighed. "I was hoping we could avoid having to do this the hard way. But, if you insist..."

He snapped the lighter shut and drew away from the lieutenant, walking past him. Baker waited in the dark, his body tensing up as he heard the sound of something heavy being dragged along the ground just behind him. A moment later, Fixer reappeared, holding a sledgehammer in his hands. He hefted the crude weapon with ease, preparing to strike. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

"Wait... no, no, n-"

Baker howled in pain as Fixer brought the hammer down on his kneecap, splitting it open in an instant.

"Fuck! Stop! _Stop!_"

Fixer leaned over the lieutenant again, grabbing the back of his head, wrenching it back. "Access codes. _Now_," he demanded, any pretence of patience and civility gone from his voice.

Despite the blinding pain in his mangled knee, the young soldier shook his head. "C-can't..."

"Have it your way," Fixer said, raising the sledgehammer for a second blow. As he did, the colonel began to struggle and shout as best he could, given his gag and restraints. Fixer lowered his hammer. "Switch. It appears that the colonel has something to say, after all."

He shifted his attention away from the lieutenant and walked over to the colonel, accompanied by the brawny man with the hacking tool on his arm. The latter yanked the colonel's gag down, enabling the ageing base commander to speak.

"Ready to talk?" Fixer asked.

"How did..." the colonel choked and coughed, before resuming. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" Fixer replied. He knew the colonel was stalling for time, but decided to indulge him for a moment. No help was coming either way.

"This," the colonel said. "You... there's only five of you. It isn't possible..."

"Ah, I see. You're wondering how we defeated your men," Fixer said, eyeing the man's corpulent form with amused disdain. "Believe me, colonel, you were defeated long before we showed up."

"But... why go after this place?" the colonel asked.

"You know that as well as I do... you traitor," Fixer said.

"Traitor?" the colonel looked up at Fixer, perplexed. "What are talking about?"

Fixer crossed his arms. "You abandoned your role. Betrayed our cause. Do you know what we do to traitors?"

"I... I don't know what you're..."

Fixer cut him off. "You were going to sell this base and all its secrets to the highest bidder, weren't you?"

The colonel didn't reply.

"A nice little retirement fund for yourself, or so you must have figured."

"What do you care?" the colonel asked. "Shinra's dead and gone."

"Not quite," Fixer replied.

"Look around you," colonel Hawkins said. "You see what's happening around the planet? There _is_ no more Shinra. The world's moved on."

"That's what you think, colonel," Fixer replied, giving the old soldier a strangely pitying look. "It's so hard to find loyal people these days, isn't it?" he remarked, half to himself.

"You can't be serious..." the colonel said.

"Oh, but I am," Fixer said. "Now, here's what's going to happen next. Either you give me access to your base's mainframe, or my subordinates and I start cutting away until you're down to nothing but the bones, then set fire to your remains."

The colonel, despite his best efforts, could no longer disguise his growing fear. "Who are you people?"

Fixer leaned in towards him, a slow grin spreading across his features.

"Deepground."

He watched the colonel's reaction, taking pleasure in seeing the blood drain from the old soldier's face.

"Th-that's impossible," the colonel sputtered. "There's no such unit. It's just a myth." The colonel looked about the room in a panic, as though seeking affirmation from any direction, but his gaze was met only with the masked faces of his captors, who stared at him in silence. "_Right?_"

"I think you'll find, colonel, that there is some truth to every legend," a voice came from just outside the room. Fixer and his squad turned their attention to the new arrivals: several members of captain Archer's Spectre unit, with the captain himself in tow. And in their midst, none other than Adrian Blackwood.

Fixer straightened up. "Mr. Blackwood. We weren't expecting you here."

The colonel seemed equally perplexed by the sudden presence of Novus's new CEO at his military base. Few people had ever even laid eyes on the man. And now, for who knew what reason, he was leading an incursion into his stronghold by all appearances. Hawkins looked Blackwood over, taking in what details he could in the basement's low light: A man in his early fifties, yet gifted with a vigour in his step closer to that of someone half his age. His oblong face was framed by a white beard and hair, both neatly trimmed, and he wore a light grey coat over a crisp black business suit. His clothing, though muted, stood out amongst the other trespassers' sombre military attire. When he spoke, he addressed his subordinates in a rich baritone, level and authoritative. "I always enjoy watching professionals at work," Blackwood said, folding his hands as he and Archer's unit stood by, watching Fixer's ongoing interrogation. "Proceed."

Fixer nodded, then turned his attention back to his captives. "Colonel," he said. "Access codes... please."

Despite his hopeless situation, the brief disruption appeared to have helped the colonel find the last of his resolve to resist the invaders. "No. I won't do it."

Fixer walked over to lieutenant Baker, pausing halfway between the two men. "And you?"

Baker shook his head.

_*click*_

Fixer glanced at one, then the other, before taking out his lighter again. He walked between the two, evidently deep in thought, as he snapped the lid on and off again with clockwork timing.

_*click* *click*_

"I don't care what threats you make," colonel Hawkins taunted Fixer, growing bolder as he saw his captor caught at an impasse. "We won't give in. Not to the likes of you."

_*click*_

Fixer stopped dead in his tracks, closing his eyes and sighing, before glaring at colonel Hawkins over his shoulder. "You're looking a little chilly there, colonel. Let me see if I can't help you with that..."

He snapped the lid from the lighter, leaving the exposed flame burning uncontrolled, before casually flinging it into the colonel's lap. "Catch."

The colonel's mood immediately shifted from bravado to terror, as his fuel-soaked clothing caught fire in an instant, the conflagration quickly spreading across his entire body, searing his flesh. His panicked pleas for someone to put out the fire quickly devolved into incoherent screaming as the flames consumed his body, until he resembled nothing more than a human-shaped torch. Lieutenant Baker watched, horrified, struggling against his own restraints, his violent protests reverberating throughout the room, in spite of the steel gag in his mouth. The five members of Deepground watched dispassionately as the colonel burned alive right before their eyes. Blackwood and Archer were similarly unmoved by the man's immolation.

Finally, once he had grown weary of the colonel's frenzied screaming, Fixer gestured to one of his squad. "All right, that's enough. Put him out of his misery."

The woman with the twin blades stepped forward, marching up behind the colonel before drawing her weapons and, in an effortless, lightning-quick scissor motion, sliced the upper half of his head clean off. Baker recoiled in horror as some of the viscera splashed down near his boot, and he tried to turn away from the appalling scene. Fixer stalked over to their last remaining captive, gripping the back of his chair and forcing the helpless lieutenant to look him in the eye. "Now, do I have your attention?" he growled, gesturing towards the colonel's headless corpse, the charred body still writhing in its seat. "_This_ is what happens when you say 'no' to us."

He removed the gag from the lieutenant's mouth, giving him a chance to speak. Baker shook his head, still trying to shift away. "I-I can't..."

Fixer stared at the young soldier for a long while. His face was a mess of tears and sweat, and while it was obvious that any remaining defiance had abandoned him, he was still putting up one last, futile attempt at resistance. It was clear that, if nothing else, he was ready to die to protect Site Alpha's secrets. "Why don't we try a different approach," Fixer said at last, drawing something from inside his coat, holding it up for the lieutenant to see. A photograph, surreptitiously taken, of a child about four years of age, sliding down a playground slide along with his friends. "David, wasn't it?"

Baker froze in place as he recognized his boy. "You're going to give me those codes, lieutenant," Fixer said. "Otherwise," he gestured towards the other four members of Deepground, "the next place I tell these fine people to visit will be your son's kindergarten. Are we understood?"

Baker swallowed hard, then nodded silently.

"Good."

"...I can only give you partial access," Baker said, hesitant.

Fixer turned to his team's hacker. "Think you can work with that, Switch?"

"Not a problem, Sir," the brawny man with the hacking gauntlet replied.

"All right," Fixer said. "Get him on his feet."

The others undid Baker's restraints and pulled him out of the chair. The young lieutenant tried not to grimace too much on account of his damaged knee as they marched him over to the mainframe's interface at gunpoint, where he tapped a series of keys, slowly unlocking the computer system for them. Satisfied that they had acquired basic access, they walked him back over to his chair, binding his arms and legs again.

"We'll need more than this," Fixer said.

"Looks like it's your turn to shine, Killswitch," the woman with the twin blades said.

The hacker, Killswitch, sauntered over to the partially-unlocked mainframe, giving a haughty laugh as he brought up the holographic interface on his gauntlet, punching in a few commands. He looked the mainframe's display over, cracking his knuckles. "They call it 'security'. I call it a warm-up."

A few more minutes went by as Killswitch moved between working on the terminal's interface and his own, breaking down the base's security measures bit by bit. At last, the terminal greeted him with a simple message. "Access granted."

"Well?" Fixer asked.

"It's done," Killswitch said. "The base is ours. Security systems, research block. The whole nine yards."

"Impressive work," Blackwood said, speaking up at last, after spending most of his time silently observing Fixer and his crew.

"My unit always delivers," Fixer replied.

"So I see," Blackwood said. "Oh, that reminds me... captain Archer will be taking over Site Alpha. It will come in handy as our new base of operations away from Midgar."

"Understood, Sir."

Fixer did his best to hide his displeasure at this revelation. He had assumed that he and his unit would be rewarded with the base after their success, rather than Archer and his mundanes. Archer and his men, on the other hand, appeared quite pleased with the decision. They quickly dispersed throughout the base, wasting no time in assimilating it for its new cause.

"Now, would you mind queueing up the Helios schematics?" Blackwood asked.

"Of course," Killswitch said, punching in a few more commands on his gauntlet. As he did, the image of a tank prototype's blueprint appeared on the mainframe's display, followed by a 3D model of the same tank, slowly rotating from one angle to the next. Baker watched anxiously from his chair as his captors studied the hitherto secret project's design.

"You still need the prototype, I take it?" Fixer asked Blackwood.

"Yes. We've a few issues left to sort out," Blackwood replied. "Speaking of which... I've a new mission for you."

"Yes, Sir."

"The Core's assembly is nearing completion. We can't afford any... setbacks."

"Setbacks, Sir?" Fixer asked.

"We need to tie up some loose ends," Blackwood said. "Specifically, with Arcturus."

"Doctor Weller?"

Blackwood nodded. "It would appear that the good doctor has gone to ground. We can't have that."

"We'll find him," Fixer said.

"Of that, I've no doubt," Blackwood replied. "Then there's Wutai to contend with. The mining operations aren't moving as quickly as we'd anticipated."

"Any resistance from Tempest?"

"Not for the moment," Blackwood said. "I expect you all know what to do if that should change."

"Yes, Sir," Fixer replied. "Anything else?"

"One other matter," Blackwood said. "Tell me, are you familiar with 'Avalanche'?"

"By reputation, yes."

"Good," Blackwood said. "Come see me when you're finished cleaning up here."

He turned to leave, flanked by a few members of captain Archer's Spectre unit, then paused and looked over at Fixer one last time. "Oh, and... do be thorough."

Fixer watched Blackwood as he exited the room. Then, he walked over to his toolkit and dug through it for a moment, taking out a cordless drill. "You heard the man," he said, addressing his crew as he swivelled the helpless Baker in his chair to face the rest of Deepground, all of whom had their weapons drawn, ready and aching to inflict further violence.

"Play nice, children."

* * *

**New 7th Heaven, downtown Edge / February 28 / 11:13 pm**

Tifa brought up the spray gun, blasting another jet of paint onto the bare concrete wall. Music played softly on the radio sitting on her bar counter while she worked late into the night. Aside from her own movement, all was still. Not a soul could be seen stirring anywhere in the vicinity of her new establishment. She had almost fallen into a trance-like state brought on by the repetitious task of painting the walls when her phone began to vibrate on the counter. Surprised, she put the spray gun away and pulled down her paint mask, wondering who would be calling at this time of night. "7th Heaven Bar and Grill," she answered, leaning against the counter. "Sorry, we're not open for business yet."

"Hey, girl. How you holdin' up?" Barret's voice came on the other end.

"Oh, hey Barret!" she greeted, her mood brightening at the sound of her friend's voice. "What's up?"

"Ah, you know. Just keepin' busy. How 'bout you? New place coming along all right?"

Tifa looked over the half-finished bar. She had bought the building with the last of her savings right after the rescue operations in Midgar had concluded and real estate was still dirt-cheap. The downside, of course, was that she'd had to spend most of her free time fixing it up. Lights, still not properly rigged up, hung from the ceiling with their cables exposed. The main room itself was only sparsely lit, save for the neon sign behind her, which bathed the whole bar in a soft fuchsia glow. Power was scant, her new liquor license was still pending, and most of the furniture remained covered in tarp or cloth. At least the new paint job was coming along nicely, she thought.

"It's... coming together," she replied. "Slowly, but still... not half bad, considering that I've pieced most of it together all by myself."

"I hear ya," Barret said. "Been meanin' to drop by, maybe give you a hand when I've got time."

"That'd be great, thanks," Tifa said, smiling. "How have you been, otherwise?"

"You mean aside from busy as hell?" Barret said. "There's always more construction projects to supervise, so my schedule's pretty packed."

Tifa smiled. "Good thing Marlene loves hanging out with her 'Auntie Elmyra'."

"I'm tellin' you, that woman is a saint," Barret said. "Besides, I've gotta say, it feels good to be building things instead of always breakin'em down."

"True," Tifa said.

There was a brief lull in their conversation, before Barret finally continued. "So, uh... Spikes call you yet?"

Tifa shook her head. "No, I haven't heard from him in a while. Why?"

She heard Barret mutter something under his breath. "I told that..." he trailed off into what sounded to her like a litany of obscenities.

"Barret?" she prompted.

"Anyway, I paid him a visit this morning. He's holed up in Eagle's Nest."

"I know," Tifa said.

"Wait..." Barret replied. "You knew?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"I dunno. I thought maybe you guys had had a falling-out or something."

"No, nothing like that," Tifa said.

"So, what's up?" Barret asked. "Why the sudden split? I mean, I know Spikes ain't exactly the easiest person to live with, but still..."

Tifa gave a soft chuckle at this. "You're telling me."

Neither of them said anything further for a moment. Then, Tifa decided that she'd best explain what was going on between her and Cloud. "I just... wanted to give him some distance, that's all. I know he's still hurting after... y'know. After everything."

"Yeah," Barret replied slowly, sounding more introspective than his usual self as their conversation grew more sombre.

"And I think he just needs some time to figure things out on his own," Tifa continued. "I'm not sure if me being there would help all that much right now. Putting pressure on him..."

"You really think so?"

"I know Cloud," Tifa said. "He'll come back to the world when he's ready."

"Sure hope you're right about that," Barret said. He wasn't about to argue with Tifa. She did know him better than anyone else in Avalanche. Still, he had his doubts after seeing Cloud's mental state earlier that morning. During the chaos leading up to Meteorfall, there had been little time for mourning or second-guessing their actions. It was only after their whirlwind misadventure had ended that the full weight of what they had just gone through began to make itself known to them. It had been hard enough for most of them to readjust to everyday life after the sheer insanity of going up against Shinra and Sephiroth. There was no going through that kind of experience unscathed, and at times it had seemed like the only thing helping him to keep it together was the fact that there was simply no time to lose. If the others had it rough, he could only imagine what he was going through right now.

Tifa got up from the counter, idly curling a lock of hair around her finger as she spoke up again. "So... how is he doing?"

"I won't lie, Teef. The guy's a wreck."

"Really?" she replied, growing concerned. Perhaps her hands-off approach had been misguided, after all.

"Yeah, just kinda... out of it, y'know?" Barret said.

"I see..."

"I'm tellin you, girl, you should think about reaching out to him."

"Maybe you're right," Tifa said. "I've just been so caught up in my own things, lately. Getting everything back on track..."

"Hey, don't be too hard on yourself," Barret said. "We all got things to deal with."

"Maybe we could pay him a visit together the day after tomorrow?" Tifa suggested. "I just really need to get some things wrapped up here at the bar before I can leave."

"Gotcha," Barret said. "I'll drop by once I get a chance, maybe help you get things squared away."

"Sure, that-"

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden, violent tremor, as a sharp but powerful earthquake rocked the city. Tifa caught the edge of her bar counter to steady herself, waiting for a moment for the earthquake to pass. "The hell?" she heard Barret grumble on the other end of the line. "Another one?"

"You felt that too, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. Damn, it feels like they've been gettin' worse lately."

"Well... whatever's causing them, it can't last forever, right?" Tifa said.

"Here's hoping."

"Anyway, drop by soon, okay?"

"All right. You take care, Teef."

"You too, Barret."

Tifa hung up the phone and slid it back onto the counter, then heaved a long sigh before pulling the mask back on her face and resuming her work with painting the walls. There was still a long way to go before her new 7th Heaven was ready for prime time.

* * *

**Rio de Vida bistro, Costa del Sol / February 28 / 18:22 pm**

The slowly-turning fan hanging loosely from the ceiling did little to combat the sweltering heat that permeated the inside of the smoky, half-empty Costa del Sol restaurant. A few dishevelled men sat at the corner table, engaged in an extended game of Midgar Hold'em, among them, Cid Highwind. He, along with the others, had his eyes on the large pot of gil that had accumulated on the table over the course of a morning spent trying their luck at cards.

"All right, we've been dancin' around this thing long enough," one of the players announced. "It's time, gentlemen. Showdown."

The other players put their cards down, one by one, going from left to right. Two pairs, followed by three of a kind. A couple of the players simply shook their heads and discarded their hands in frustration as the senior member of the group, Hector, gave a crooked grin and revealed his own hand: a full house. Cid, who still had his cards in his hand, furrowed his brow. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

"Looks like you're heading back empty-handed, friend," Hector said. "You know you've got nothing."

"Well, clearly I'm no match for seasoned players such as yourselves," Cid replied in a good-natured tone of voice. "I mean, these cards are just eating me alive today..."

"Tough luck," Hector shrugged, and began to sweep the pile of chips towards his side of the table, when Cid put one of his cards down and flipped it face-up. A three of clubs.

"Yeah, it's a crying shame, really," Cid agreed. "Seeing as how I've got nothing," he added, before revealing his second card: a five of the same suit.

Hector and the others paused as the smiles slowly vanished from their faces. They all looked down at the community cards at the centre of the table: A six, a seven, and a four of clubs. A straight flush. "Oh, will you look at that?" Cid grinned. "You see what he did there?"

Several of the men glared at the captain for a moment, before leaving in a huff, cussing him out under their breaths as they walked off. "Better luck next time, friends," Cid added as he gathered his winnings and left the table. "I swear, doesn't anyone know how to play this game?"

He quickly cashed in his chips, then walked over to the bar and ordered a drink. It wasn't long before he was joined by his partner in crime, who, he was relieved to see, had at least shelved his usual armoured suit and cape for a black suit and tie, similar to what he might have worn back during his days with the Turks. He had his hair drawn back into a simple ponytail, and a black leather glove covered up his less-than-inconspicuous claw hand. Not exactly a tourist look, but Cid figured it was about as casual as Vincent Valentine would ever dress. "I take it this is your way of blending in with the locals?" he remarked. "How do you wear a suit in this climate, anyway?"

"I left the jacket behind, didn't I?"

Cid snorted as he flagged the bartender for another couple of drinks, and the two of them did their best to give the appearance of casual conversation as they went over their findings. "So, any luck?" Vincent asked.

"Took some of Don Galvez's chumps for their money," Cid replied. "Couldn't get much out of them. They're a pretty tight-lipped bunch."

"Hmmm," Vincent replied, downing his own drink.

"Find anything on your end?" Cid asked.

"I did some scouting near the airfield," Vincent said. "It appears that our friend's been busy with a new load of shipments."

"Yeah, well, the revelation that Don Galvez is smuggling guns and drugs across this region isn't exactly gonna make the evening headlines," Cid replied.

"Perhaps not," Vincent said. He drew a set of photographs from his pocket and slid them over. "But these are another story."

"What's this?" Cid asked.

"It appears that Reeve's intel may have panned out, after all," Vincent said.

Cid picked up one of the photos, scrutinizing it more closely. "Chemical containers?"

Vincent nodded. "Heavy ones. The kind used to transport hazardous materials. Strange cargo, to say the least, don't you think?"

"Get a look at the contents?" Cid asked.

Vincent shook his head. "Couldn't get close enough. Too heavily-guarded."

"Novus?"

"Undoubtedly," Vincent said. "Though you won't find their name attached to any of this."

Cid frowned as he examined the rest of the photos one by one. "Drugs and guns, I can understand. But this? This is some heavy-duty industrial shit right here. Why would a small-time crime lord like Galvez be transporting volatile materials like these?"

"Aside from money, you mean?" Vincent shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Furthermore, what the hell is a medical corporation doing shipping crap like this half-way across the world? These ain't painkillers, that's for sure."

"In any case, we should get in touch with Reeve and report back our findings," Vincent said.

"Yeah," Cid replied, noticing the looks they were getting from several of the bar's patrons. "Might want to make ourselves scarce, as well. I get the feeling we ain't welcome here anymore."

Vincent followed his gaze. A number of the bar's regulars, very likely Don Galvez's men, appeared to be sizing them up for a confrontation. "Get the plane patched up. I'll draw them away."

The two of them exited by the side entrance, emerging into a narrow alleyway. In the blinding sunlight, it took them a moment to notice the man standing at one side of the alley, barring the way out. They turned around, only to be met with two more of Galvez's thugs emerging from the side entrance behind them, armed with a chain and a switchblade.

They wasted no time in confronting their assailants, with Cid taking the one on the left, catching his knife hand by the wrist as he lunged forward, while Vincent dodged the other man's clumsy swing before knocking him to the ground. The third man came up from behind them, quickly closing the distance before drawing a revolver and loosing off a shot at point-blank range, just barely missing Cid's face, leaving a neat pockmark in the wall behind him as he and Vincent struggled with the first attacker. They shifted their positions, throwing him full-force against the man with the gun before he could get off a second shot, knocking the gun out of his hand. Unarmed and disoriented, the two remaining thugs posed little challenge for them, and they quickly joined their cohort on the ground, unconscious.

Cid and Vincent looked at each other as they caught their breaths, still startled by the sudden and unannounced attack. Cid exhaled with some effort, brushing the sweat from his brow. "Yeah... definitely not welcome anymore."

* * *

**South Wutai / February 28 / 11:38 am**

The Tempest soldiers marched on through the dense, humid jungle, perfectly unaware of the two figures watching them from the treetops. Yuffie and Mei slipped from one tree branch to the next with feather-light steps, shadowing the squadron of soldiers as they made their way towards what looked to be their base of operations, near the beach.

"You know, I really don't think your father would be happy about this."

Yuffie glanced toward her second for a moment, before turning her attention back to their marks. "Good thing I don't give a crap about what that old goat thinks."

Mei blanched at this. "That's hardly..." she started, before trailing off. She still wasn't quite accustomed to the young Lady Kisaragi's flippant attitude, especially when it came to her father.

"Come on, we have to keep up," Yuffie urged, keeping her eyes locked on the soldiers below.

"You know, from what I hear, his health isn't getting any better."

Yuffie looked at her again for a second. "Is that true?"

"The doctors wouldn't let me anywhere near him the last time I was at the Kisaragi manor," Mei said.

"Huh... that's strange," Yuffie said. "I've never known my dad to get so much as a cold. And now he's been cooped up in his room for weeks."

"Perhaps he didn't wish to trouble you with his illness," Mei suggested.

Yuffie scoffed at the idea. "My dad being all considerate? Yeah, right."

"If you say so," Mei replied. "I did get a chance to speak with him a little earlier, though. He seemed to have quite a lot on his mind."

Yuffie rolled her eyes. "Such as?"

"He mentioned something about 'illegal mining operations' taking place up North," Mei said. "You think it might be Tempest?"

Yuffie shrugged. "Dunno. Wouldn't surprise me, though. These guys are everywhere, lately."

"I thought your father said these guys were fringe," Mei said.

"That's what we're here to find out," Yuffie replied. "Good thing we disregarded his orders to stay put, huh?"

Mei nearly blushed. "I don't plan on making a habit out of going behind Lord Godo's back."

"Well, you may just have to," Yuffie said. She halted, bringing her hand up to signal for Mei to stop as well. "Hold on, looks like we've found the place."

The two of them looked on as the squadron of soldiers marched down a beaten path leading to the southern beach, where a sizeable military base was clearly under construction. It looked far larger than anything they had anticipated, with crates of weapons, modern and ancient alike, being transported and stockpiled across the whole base. Guns, blades, and materia were all being gathered in amounts that no-one had seen since the war between Shinra and Wutai.

Yuffie clambered up the tallest tree branch she could find, just overhanging one of the walls marking the base's perimeter, then dug her phone out of her pocket and began snapping photos and videos as quickly as she could from her limited vantage point. Mei followed suit, gathering as much intel as she could.

"Okay, this looks anything but fringe," Yuffie said.

"Is that a warship?" Mei pointed out. Yuffie looked out towards the coast, spotting a ship in the distance, one that was clearly being outfitted for battle.

"I know Tempest have been causing a lot of trouble in the East," Mei said. "Vandalism, random attacks on the civilian population, and even doing raids on military outposts. But this is... They look like they're gearing up for an all-out war."

"Or an armed rebellion," Yuffie pointed out. "Where'd they even get their hands on this kind of hardware?"

There was one other detail which had not escaped their notice. Everywhere they looked, they could see Wutai's hitherto forbidden wartime standard proudly on display. Although its use was technically no longer illegal, as it had been during Shinra's occupation, it was still gravely frowned upon, and viewed as a sign of belligerence, of reviving old hostilities. Yuffie shook her head. "Looks like my dad was wrong. _Way_ wrong. These guys are serious."

"We have to show this to him," Mei said.

"Agreed," Yuffie said. "Let's go."

As they climbed back down and started for the path leading back up north, Yuffie spotted a patrolling soldier coming their way through the jungle. Her second, however, who was just ahead of her, kept moving as though she hadn't seen him. "Mei," she whispered sharply. "Guard."

Mei stopped dead in her tracks, mere inches away from the path, where she would have been instantly spotted. She and Yuffie both held their breaths as the guard passed them by. "We'll have to find another way," Yuffie whispered to Mei once they were certain the soldier was out of earshot. "Come on."

The two of them moved south again, closer to the base, along a rain-slicked mud path, doing their best to avoid detection by other patrols. As they walked along the edge of the escarpment, Mei slipped and fell, sliding and falling down, landing just inside the wall of the base. "Oh, sh-"

"Mei, are you all right?" Yuffie whispered to her, peeking over the steep bank.

Mei winced as she got back up to her feet, looking as though she might have twisted her ankle. "Yeah, I'm okay, but..." she replied, before freezing and ducking behind a crate as she spotted another soldier coming her way to investigate the noise.

"Who's there?" the soldier called out. "Is someone there? Come out, now!"

The two of them kept completely silent once again as the wary soldier slowly walked over to where Mei was hiding. She drew her knife, while Yuffie readied a smoke bomb from her belt in case either of them got spotted. If they were, she knew, they'd have mere seconds at best before the whole base was on high alert.

The soldier walked closer still, then paused, right in front of the spot where Mei was ducked behind the wooden crate. He looked around for a good, long while, then moved on, muttering something about hearing things. Mei finally allowed herself to breathe a short sigh of relief, before approaching the wall once again. Yuffie nodded to her, and she bounded up the wall, making a leap as she reached near the top of it, where the younger girl caught her hands and helped pull her up. The two of them headed back into the jungle, making sure that they were a good distance away from the base before either of them spoke up again. "Well, that was a little closer than would have liked," Yuffie said.

"So, what do we do now?" Mei asked.

"You got the photos, right?" Yuffie asked. Mei nodded.

"Good. Go back to the capital. Warn my dad and the Wusheng."

So saying, she wandered off, heading east, rather than north, as Mei had expected. It was clear from her choice of direction that she was not headed the same way. Mei halted, puzzled by Yuffie's decision not to accompany her back to the capital. "Your highness... where are you going?"

Yuffie turned and glanced at her friend for a second, before disappearing through the underbrush.

"To get help."

* * *

**Author's Notes**

One should always be careful about introducing too many new characters at once, so I've tried to bring as few to the centre stage at once as possible. In addition, the story will likely necessitate a number of supporting characters cropping up here and there. These will appear in one or two scenes, at most.

In this version (or timeline, if you prefer) the damage to Midgar was not as extensive as it would have been in Advent Children, meaning that parts of the city are still inhabitable, save for the north-western region of the metropolis, which absorbed the worst of the damage, and has been cordoned off as being too dangerous for anyone to enter.

For anyone keeping track, the three antagonistic factions revealed thus far are:

1\. Deepground, a squad of elite soldiers, the existence of which remains a secret to all but the innermost circles of Shinra.

2\. The Spectres, another military unit of highly skilled but mundane (i.e. lacking in any kind of materia / magic training) led by captain Archer.

3\. Tempest, a rogue Wutai militia, hell-bent on starting a new war with the East.

A more media-rich version of this story may be found at AO3.


End file.
